Beginnings: Chapter 2 – Formalities


When I awoke the following morning, my eyelids steadfastly resisted my initial attempts to open them. My night’s sleep had been punctuated by a patchwork of semi-lucid dreams which had left my head feeling furry. Within moments my mind turned back to my meeting with Veronica the previous evening. I spent several seconds lightly rubbing the heels of the palms of my hands against my unwilling eyes in an attempt to hurry along full consciousness. For a few seconds I played with the possibility that the events of the previous evening had been a semi-lucid dream too. When my heavy eyelids finally prised themselves open sufficiently, I turned my head sideways to check the time and saw Veronica’s black case-file of papers relating to Samantha Sutton’s divorce sat on my bedside table. I laid my head back on the pillow and drew the duvet up over it, heaving a weighty sigh. The previous evening had been no dream. In the haze of my mind in which my early-morning thoughts were now swimming, my head began to try to make some sense of what had happened little more than twelve hours earlier. One thing was absolutely certain; I had never done anything like that before. It was totally out of character for me. My first instinct was to try to blame the wine. I had virtuously abstained from drinking any alcohol during my final year at university, I suggested to myself, and my body was just not used to it. I knew, however, that this attempt to explain what had happened was in reality little more than wishful thinking. I had barely drunk three-quarters of a glass of red wine; even my grandmother could have drunk that amount without so much as feeling drowsy! My mind needed answers but was struggling to find any. Under the comforting warmth of the duvet my thoughts began to drift lazily back to the wine bar and the unbelievable ease with which Veronica had managed to unlock such intoxicating, irresistible sexual urges from deep within. I had always suspected I was possessed of what may have been described as a ‘shrinking’ personality, but the way in which my emotions had been so totally and effortlessly overpowered had taken my feelings of vulnerability to an entirely new level. It was, however, a vulnerability that for those moments had made me feel more alive than I ever had in my life. As I lay there, I felt a divine heat beginning to radiate from between my legs once more. My logical mind was still exhorting me to keep looking for answers I could understand; my body, on the other hand, was urging me to surrender to the desire that was building between my legs and percolating tantalisingly through my body. I squeezed my thighs tightly together as my body and mind wrestled. Then, slowly, the fingers of my right hand began to move over my warm torso and find my left breast. Under the palm of my hand I could feel my nipple, engorged and tense, pressing insistently against the smooth black satin of my nightie. I allowed my palm to rub lightly over it and encourage its firm insistence yet further, before surrounding my breast with my hand, kneading and caressing it until I felt it kaçak iddaa swell deliciously under my touch. I felt my back arch and I allowed my left hand to slip down between my legs. I was beginning to feel powerless again in the face of my sudden desire. My mind was bathed in sexual thoughts and appetites that I was beginning to realise I had no control over. In my mind’s eye I saw Veronica’s deep, sensuous eyes once more, assertive and hungry, burrowing into my mind and melting whatever resistance I had. My fingers drifted easily down inside the waistband of my panties and quickly found the puffy outer lips of my sex, now moist with the dew of my desire, and I began to explore their moist, fleshy texture. My weakening mind then reminded me that Veronica’s toes had been there; that they had pushed inside me and eventually had driven me over the edge and into intense sexual pleasure. My wet, yielding lips were provocatively inviting my fingers to press against them just a little more and slide inside. Feeling my breathing quicken, I felt my fingers almost being sucked inside myself, and let out a little moan of pleasure. A knock on my bedroom door and the sound of it opening, however, brought me swiftly back to reality, as I hurriedly pulled my hand from within the confines of my panties. Under the duvet I could feel my fingers, slick and sticky. “What time do you call this?” my mother asked. “It’s nearly ten o’clock.” “It’s Saturday morning,” I complained. My mother was the kind of woman who paid no attention to complaints. “So tell me,” she said, rather like an excited child as she perched herself at the end of the bed, “How did your meeting with Veronica go last night?” I motioned with my eyes to the black file on my bedside table. “She wants me to start on Monday morning.” “She’s offered you a job for the summer?” my mother chirped. “I just knew you would impress her. From the size of that file, it looks as though you are going to be quite busy.” “It looks that way,” I sighed, my disappointment at my secret, spontaneous pleasure being so suddenly and fatally interrupted now beginning to overtake me. “Come on!” my mother urged, patting my legs over the duvet. “I’m going to take you into town to celebrate.” With that she stood up and left the bedroom, leaving my door wide open and my hopes of a few moments personal pleasure tight shut. I spent most of the remainder of that weekend diligently studying the contents of the file. I anticipated that Veronica would expect me to be intimately acquainted with the case. I had to confess to myself that, in spite of not really having much interest in family law, aspects of the case had already begun to intrigue me, and the more I read about it, the more absorbed I became. It became clear that Adam Sutton, Samantha’s husband, was claiming that his wife had been unfaithful to him, not only with the agency model Emily but also, over a long period of time, with a number of other women. For Samantha’s part, in her own statement she categorically denied the allegations that Adam was making. At first blush there seemed kaçak bahis to be very little evidence to support the allegations beyond what Adam was claiming; there was no statement from Emily, or for that matter from any of the other women who Adam suggested had been involved with Samantha, and there were no photographs of Samantha in flagrante. However, I noted that at the end of his statement that Adam had ominously indicated that in due course he would provide undeniable proof of his wife’s infidelity. The other thing he was claiming was a financial settlement that ran well into seven figures. I had been more than a little nervous about arriving at the office on the Monday morning, and as I passed through the reception area at a little before nine o’clock my stomach felt like rough, ravelled rope. I made my way by lift to the fifth floor, where the partners of the firm all had their own plush and spacious offices, and walked along the corridor until I eventually found a door with an impressive metallic name plate on which were impressed the words ‘Veronica Hamilton, Senior Partner’. I curled my fingers into my slightly clammy palm and, with more than a touch of trepidation, knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence I heard Veronica’s voice from within, bidding me to come in. As I entered and closed the door behind me, I could see Veronica sat behind an expansive, imposing desk, her jacket hung neatly over the plush, broad shoulders of the high-backed leather chair on which she was sat. She was hunched industriously over a scattered sea of papers and several weighty legal volumes, some of which were in small untidy piles and others open in front of her, holding an expensive-looking silver pen between her slender, red-tipped fingers and writing avidly. It was obvious that she had been hard at work for quite some time. I moved a little closer to the edge of her desk, hardly daring to do anything to interrupt the silent energy that was pervading the whole room. There I waited, clutching the black file to my chest and feeling, as the moments ticked by, more and more like an anxious schoolgirl who had been called to the headmistress’s study for failing to hand her homework in on time. Eventually, signing whatever papers she was working on with a flourish of her pen, Veronica raised her eyes and looked at me. I felt a mysterious mix of nervousness and semi-embarrassment begin to bathe me and lowered my eyes slightly. “Is there a problem, Lucy?” she asked. I felt that perhaps there was, but at that precise moment I was unable to identify it. Part of me wondered how Veronica could so confidently feel no sense of awkwardness or self-consciousness about what had happened in the wine bar three days earlier. “No, there isn’t, Honestly,” I replied. “Good,” she said, her tone blunt and disarming. “Now, you can work over there,” she continued, pointing to a generously broad, mahogany, leather-topped desk a few feet away. “I intend on keeping you very busy today, Lucy.” “I don’t mind that at all,” I replied, feeling an intense need to say the right thing although illegal bahis knowing that I had no idea what, exactly, the ‘right thing’ was where Veronica was concerned. I knew that impressing Veronica was probably going to be impossible, but I had no wish to add to this by causing any offence. I had no real ideal of the protocol and at least wanted to ensure I didn’t upset her unnecessarily, “By the way, may I just ask how I should address you?” Veronica offered me a sober, serious look. “For the time being, Lucy, at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton. Is that understood?” “Yes,” I replied. Veronica looked at me intently. It was a look that conveyed clearly that she expected me to say something more. I felt confused. “I don’t like repeating myself, Lucy, but bearing in mind that this is your first day, and in case you didn’t quite hear me the first time, I told you that at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton.” Inside, I suddenly felt a heavy penny drop. “I’m sorry. Yes, of course, Miss Hamilton.” Veronica’s eyes began to warm perceptibly and at that moment I felt an inexplicable, intense and comforting heat radiate through my body. Veronica was true to her word. She kept me busy all morning, although most of my tasks were relatively mundane: several trips to the local county court offices in order to file applications, delivering papers along the corridor to Veronica’s secretary for typing up, multiple visits to the photocopying machine, and locating a variety of legal volumes containing statutes and cases that Veronica needed consumed every moment of my time. I had to confess to feeling more than a little disappointed. I had anticipated the work of a busy, high-powered lawyer to be rather more exotic. The closest I came that morning to anything exotic was making Veronica a cup of coffee with beans that had been grown in Brazil. By the middle of the afternoon, Veronica was still busy working on her papers, as she had been all day. At around half-past three, as I was hunting along the bookshelves, trying to find another volume of statutes for her, the telephone on her desk rang. “Will you answer that for me, Lucy, and tell whoever it is that I am not to be disturbed for another hour at least.” I went over to Veronica’s desk and tentatively lifted the handset. “Hello?” I said. “Who is it please?” The female voice on the other end told me she was Helen Swan, the office administrator. She asked to speak to Veronica. “I’m sorry, Miss Swan,” I replied, “but Veronica can’t speak to you at the moment. Can you call back in perhaps an hour?” On the other end of the line I heard Helen sigh deeply before putting the receiver down. I went back to my task of finding the books that Veronica had asked for. Several minutes later, as my eyes were busily skimming the bookshelves, I heard Veronica put her pen down firmly onto her desk. I turned around to see her ease her leather chair back from her desk, stand up and walk towards me. She had a purposeful look on her face; not angry, but clearly resolute and intense. I sensed something was wrong but the aura surrounding her somehow prevented me from saying anything. I turned to face her as she continued to calmly walk over to me, until finally she was stood some two or three feet in front of me.

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